Blood on Bloor
Posted by Dalton48 on 02 Sep 2009 at 07:28 am | Tagged as: Current Events, Toronto
Everything about the recent cyclist death on Bloor is upsetting and horrific. Take first the location: Bloor St. outside Sephora, between Bay and Queen’s Park Circle, a pair of blocks everyone has walked along at some point and that were, at quarter to ten on a summer night, far from empty.
Take the absolute insanity of the car’s progression along Bloor, going at high speed the wrong way on the wrong side of the street and then onto the sidewalk to bang into whatever might detach the cyclist from the car’s side, all in front of horrified witnesses.
That is enough to make it one of the grisliest and most public deaths in the city in recent years. But then comes the fact that the driver, charged with criminal negligence causing death and dangerous operation of a motor vehicle causing death, is the former attorney general of the province, responsible for, among other things, stricter legislation on street racing.
I’ve met Michael Bryant more than once. Smart, personable, perhaps somewhat arrogant, but with the drive and accomplishments to make that easier to swallow. I was warned he could be hard to work for — “a difficult boss” — but don’t imagine that description was meant to indicate anything more than impatience and the occasional outburst of bad temper.
I spent a couple of beer-soaked hours defending Bryant and his abilities to two less enamoured ex-Queen’s Park staffers a few months back. And I wrote this on Twitter when he was named CEO of Invest Toronto: “Bryant to Invest Toronto is good news for the city.”
This is upsetting and sad in every way. It’s sad for Darcy Allen Sheppard’s fiancee, children, friends and family. It’s sad for Michael Bryant’s wife and young children, whose lives are changed forever. It’s sad for the city of Toronto, which could have used the energy and drive that Bryant brought to his other portfolios. And it’s just sad in general, because no matter what the circumstances, and we’ll no doubt hear a lot more about them in the near future, no one should die the way that Darcy Allen Sheppard did.
A few years ago, I was warned by a retriever field trialer always to roll up the windows and lock the doors when driving in big cities–this was in relation to my trips to Detroit’s Cobo Hall and agricultural fairgrounds, and Niagara Falls, NY’s convention centre for the big American dog Obedience trials.
And, it turned out a bit later that this was a prudent practice in Toronto, when aggressive windshield washers waited at curbside and swarmed onto the intersections during red lights and insisted on spraying the windshield, despite mute (because the doors were locked and the windows rolled up) appeals to leave the vehicle alone.
And, of course, when one buys a vehicle, one pays good attention to the consumer reports re if the car rolls, roof reinforcement, door bars and so on.
So, when I learned that Michael Bryant and his wife were returning from enjoying Greek desserts at dive on The Danforth in a convertible with the top down and the windows rolled down, when he was set upon by an evidently demented bike rider, I wondered why
1. he had bought convertible in the first place, albeit a Saab convertible, and
2. was riding around in the inner city in the evening with the top down.
If someone attacked *me* from the outside of my car, even just yelling, one sensible option would be to drive away.
I’ve twice been engaged in road rage incidents.
The first: the man behind me at the gas pumps became enraged by having to wait while I filled the tank, and even more enraged when I went to pay. The frightened gas station attendant confirmed I must pay before moving away, and I saw that after filling up and paying he steamed off without attacking her, his wife sitting beside him frozen with … embarrassment? Fear?
The other incident occurred on Highway 52, between our Jerseyville Road and Highway 99. I entered Highway 52 from Jerseyville Road and commenced to drive northwards towards Highway 99, and was almost instantly tailgated by an erratic driver –a youngish man–waving his fists and threatening a rear end collision.
I am very familiar with that turn, and by the distance a car must be away from me, providing that car is going no more than 10 kph above the speed limit of 70 kph, before I enter the highway. So, if he was objecting to me pulling in front of him, he must have been going almighty fast. Maybe he thought I was someone else?
Anyway, he kept swooping up behind me and threatening a rear-end collision, so I pulled over to let him pass, and he pulled in behind me with a big jerk. So, I pulled back into the highway, and continued northwards, and he continued his erratic behaviour. It occurred to me to drive into a farm lane way, because I’m head of our Neighbourhood Watch group, and belong to the Highway 52 neighbourhood group, etc. and I know everyone on that stretch of rural road, but there was no guarantee that anyone would be home, so turning into a lane way might isolate me further, so I continued on to Highway 99, and stopped at the red light. He turned right onto #99, and, as he passed on my right, glanced left to see my face, and when he saw my sex, white hair, and anxious expression his jaw dropped open–maybe because the kayak was on the CR-V, a cute-ute ( I was on my way to retriever-field-train my two Standard Poodles who are uniquely titled in North America) he thought I was some jazzed up twenty-something?
Anyway, he gunned his car, and made his turn too fast for me to take his license number.
So, when I read about Michael Bryant and the biker, I wondered how on earth he happened to be driving a convertible in the first place. And, certainly one of my reactions if faced with a demented biker attacking my locked CR-V with the windows rolled up, might be to attempt escape.
Finally, I dunno about bikers–it’s a puzzle how their minds work.
They’re aggressive enough when I’m a pedestrian walking demurely in Toronto with my cane! My own Jerseyville Road, which is very pretty, and hilly, is a favoured recreational biking route, and I am in favour of the bikers, because they slow down the cars, and promote thoughtful driving, which we particularly need because of all the agricultural equipment on our road–combines which take up 2/3rds of the pavement, and so on.
The bikers ride up to three abreast, which is okay, because I will not pass even a single biker unless can see well ahead, and certainly not if a biker, topping a hill, beckons me to pass: I insist on seeing the clear roadway for myself. What I marvel at is bikers riding three abreast up a hill, and obviously minding that I am following behind, and they get to the top of the hill, and then *I* get to the top of the hill, and the way is clear for me to pass, but they are speeding down the hill so, adhering to the posted limit, which is 60 kph, I can’t pass, so, a minute or so later, here we all are again, me following slowly, and them glancing behind and glaring (and I am NOT following too close).
Why they don’t swallow their pride and pull over to the side and allow me to pass if they mind me so much, is an entire mystery. Or how about slowing down, down the hill?
In short, according to my doubtless foggy interpretation, these bikers seem determined to be victims.
And, while I am on my high horse, why are they affronted by my dogs (when/if they pull into the lane way to sip from a water bottle, or adjust a strap) barking behind the gate? What do they think proper dogs do? Why don’t they stop 100 yards further on, where it’s reasonably flat and lovely fields either side, only the cows to wander over?